


Until Death Do Us Part

by fairyteller



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Murder, Possession, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyteller/pseuds/fairyteller
Summary: The last words your soulmate will ever say to you are engraved onto your body the moment of your birth. This meant that no one knew who their soulmate is until they were gone. It was Lady Fate’s last cruel gift to humanity.Peter Parker was born with the words: I don’t want to kill youAnd it was true. Wade Wilson didn’t want to kill him.





	1. Chapter 1

The last words your soulmate will ever say to you are engraved onto your body the moment of your birth. This meant that no one knew who their soulmate is until they were gone. It was Lady Fate’s last cruel gift to humanity.

Some spent their whole lives with someone just to hear the wrong Last Words.

Those who didn’t believe in forced compatibly left their soulmates heartbroken with Last Words that were given too early.

Perhaps the worst were those who’s last words in life match the Last Words on their soulmate, dooming their soulmates watch as they die.

The stigmas around soulmates are peculiar indeed. Most are cautious, afraid to get heartbroken. Some are indifferent, believing that they’d just know when it finally happened. Others are fearless, jumping into every relationship with the full front of all their emotions, hoping that they’d blindly stumble upon their Fated.

But of course, how could you know until it was too late?

Peter Parker wasn’t big into the speculations that followed Last Words.

He didn’t listen to Ned’s ravings about how the placement of the Words told you the nature of your soulmate’s and your relationship, nor would he entertain Gwen’s ramblings of how the length of the Words gave insight on how long you would spend with your soulmate before you were forced to part.

Michelle didn’t care much for soulmates at all, though Michelle didn’t care much for anything. Harry had been cursed with the first and Last Words from his soulmates to exist in the same sentence, Widowed at a young age, destined to only meet his soulmate once in this lifetime.

For all the talk of soulmates the five had, none of them knew where each other’s Words were, nor what they said. Last Words were generally a private affair. No one wanted to be manipulated into thinking someone was their soulmate because a “friend” had learned their Words and wanted to mess with them a little.

Peter’s own words were Doomed Words.

_I don’t want to kill you._

Peter had spent a good amount of his childhood trying to put a positive spin on his Words. His illusions were always short lived. How could you put a positive spin on _that_?

So, he hid his Words and shouldered the burden. Having Doomed Words most certainly meant that the reason you were separated from your soulmate was that at least one of you would die.

And it seemed that Peter was the one who was Doomed to die.

**…**

Deadpool was quite the interesting character.

He sang while he fought, generally a lot of songs about murder and sex. It fit, as his fighting style was basically to kill people as quickly and brutally as possible while simultaneously flirting with them.

Whenever he was hanging out with Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner they would tell him horror stories about the aftermath that Deadpool had left in his wake. Then they would show Peter the latest toy they got to play with. Most recently, they had received a shipment of on odd black alien goo that they believed could be sentient.

Peter tried to stay away from Deadpool at first, partly out of fear of the murderer, and partly out of fear of the wrath of two of his biggest heroes.

The guy was manic, talking to himself as he fought as if he was disappointed in his own success/fail rate.

However, despite his efforts, Deadpool and Spiderman were unlikely friends. It started with tacos. Peter was sitting on top of his favorite taco joint, swinging his legs off the side of the building as he listened into police scanners for signs of trouble.

His spidey senses spiked slightly. It was a subtle alert, meaning that whatever it was it was just a warning, not a threat.

Next, he heard the footsteps, and then someone grumbling to themselves before they plopped down next to him.

He didn’t have to look up to know it was Deadpool.

Deadpool pulled out a bag of tacos, rolled up his mask to his nose, and took an angry bite.

The two sat there in silence as Deadpool ate _four tacos_ before Deadpool abruptly stood up and jumped off the opposite side of the building.

Peter cocked his head to the side and listened to Deadpool’s retreat. He had never heard Deadpool go so long without talking.

He spent the rest of the night reflecting. His spidey senses had yet to fail him, and they didn’t register Deadpool as a threat. But Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner had said he was dangerous. Peter had heared all the stories. Yet… Had he ever actually seen Deadpool kill a guy? Spiderman rarely ever watched Deadpool, often catching him before or after he went off to do the deed, but never during. He needed to figure out the truth for himself and reevaluate how _he_ saw the Merc with a Mouth.

Peter sat watch over the same street in Queens for the next week, only moving when crime dictated him to do so. On the sixth day, Deadpool returned. This time, when he plopped down next to Spiderman he extended his hand and said in a false cheery voice. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Deadpool and you’re on my roof.”

Spiderman squinted at the merc for a moment before accepting the handshake. “Spiderman.” He then stood up and said, “Sorry about the roof. It’s got a nice ambiance.”

He shot a web at the building across the street and swung away.

Deadpool shouted “FEEL FREE TO STOP BY AGAIN, WEBS” after him.

Spiderman trailed around Deadpool for a couple months, watching the man work. Deadpool had explained to him that since returning to New York from his world tour he was trying to do less “un-aliving”.

“I’m trying to find my fifth moment.” He had said wisely. “I’ve already used up the first four.” Peter hadn’t been sure what that had meant.

After a few more months, Deadpool had confided in him that it was easier to remember that he was done killing whenever the two were fighting crime together.

Soon, Deadpool and Spiderman met up for weekly tacos and you were more likely to see Spiderman with Deadpool than without. Deadpool had started singing cheerer tunes.

**…**

“Did you know that the first word on your soulmark could indicate if you’re on your Final Life or not?” Ned began excitedly one day.

“Come on, Ned. That can’t be true!” Michelle argued. “Last Words are totally random! How can you _predict_ Final Death?”

“You’re such a cynic, MJ!” Gwen laughed while she leaned in to the conversation. “How do you know, Ned?”

Peter began tuning his friends out, lazily messing with the food on his plate. He began to wonder what Deadpool would be talking about right now if they were hanging out. Not that Peter didn’t love being with his friends, but Deadpool had recently moved into Peter’s brain rent-free and it was pretty clear that he had no intentions of moving out any time soon.

After a few minutes, Harry hit him sharply on the shoulder. He shot his head up to see his four friends staring at him with demanding eyes.

“Come on, Parker! We need a tie-breaker!” Harry said, semi-seriously. “Gwen and Ned believe in this crazy ‘first word’ theory, and-”

“And Harry and I are rational people who don’t.” Michelle deadpanned, giving Peter a raised eyebrow.

“I… uhhh…” Peter stumbled over words that he didn’t have in his mouth, trying to recall what his friends had been talking about while he was staring into space.

“Uhh… Earth to Peter?” Gwen laughed again. “Where were you, space-boy?”

“Space-boy? That’s a new one.”

“I’m trying some new material out, you like it?” Gwen asked brightly.

The sun was setting, and Peter needed to get in costume before it set completely if he wanted to meet Deadpool for patrol.

“Sorry guys,” Peter ducked his head. “I blanked again. I gotta go anyway.”

 “Come on Peter, we never see you anymore!”

“Yeah, where do you go all the time?”

Peter hurried in packing his stuff in his bad, looking down at this work to keep his friends from seeing his blush.

They couldn’t know that he was constantly ditching them to run around the city with an ex-murderer, let alone that he _might_ have a crush on him, they’d never let it go.

“Sorry guys, I’m just a little swamped at the moment,” He cringed at his own flimsy excuse. “But I promise, next time I will be on Earth for the soulmark discussion.”

His friend yelled their goodbyes at him as he ran off.

**…**

The first time Peter had seen Deadpool without his mask was the first day Peter had seen Deadpool die.

He would later wonder how he hadn’t seen him die before. He had known of Deadpool for two years and had been actively teaming up with him for one.

Spiderman had been in the middle of tussle with a mugger when his phone went off.

Cursing slightly at the ringtone that Wade had put in (Wannabe, Spice Girls) as the mugger laughed at him, Spiderman webbed the guys mouth and hands, swung up behind him and kicked him over. He shot one more web to stick the mugger to the ground before slinging away while yelling “Somebody call the police, please!”

As he made his way between the buildings on west 42nd, he picked up his phone just before it went to voicemail.

“Spidey! See! I told you he’d pick up!” The tail end of the loud greeting was slightly muffled, as if Deadpool had turned away from his phone to talk to someone else. “Hey, do you happen to be swingin’ around Manhattan today?”

“Uhhh-”

“Great! Meet me on 8th Ave!”

Peter groaned exasperatedly. “ _Where_ on 8 th, Deadpool!”

“On a moving truck! I think we’re going south? Shit!” There were several loud bangs in the background that sounded like gunshots and a string of cusses came out of Deadpool’s mouth. “Maybe make it quick?”

He hung up before Spiderman could respond.

Spiderman swung left onto 8th and started heading south, his heart pounding nervously for some reason. There was a lot of honking as he made his way through the mid-afternoon traffic. He entertained himself with wondering what Deadpool had gotten himself into this time for several minutes before he thought to speed ahead to the front of the line. He made it just in time to see Deadpool and another figure get tossed out of a semi.

Peter veered right into the alley just in time to watch the second figure _shoot Deadpool in the goddamn head._

Spiderman did a messy job webbing up the shooter and had to do a double layer of webbing to make sure the guy was down before flinging himself at Deadpool’s prone figure.

“Shit.” Peter whispered, hands hovering around the bloody mess that was now Deadpool. Spiderman wasn’t sure what his next move should be when all of a sudden Deadpool jerked back to life, gasping, and coughing as he pulled off his mask, spitting up some blood. He must have not known Spiderman was there, because he pulled the whole thing off.

The man underneath looked like a burn victim. His skin was heavily scared all over. His eyes were screwed tight shut as he attempted to hack up his own lungs.

Spiderman watched silently as Deadpool tried to catch his breath. After a few minutes he spoke up.

“You know, if you stopped swearing, you’d be able to catch your breath faster.”

Deadpool jolted as if someone had just electrocuted him, sending himself backwards into some trashcans, eyes blown wide open.

Peter blinked heavily behind his mask. Deadpool’s eyes were the purest, more unfiltered dark brown he had ever seen. When he looked up at Spiderman the light filled up his eyes like golden pools as he squinted at the man in front of him.

“What the hell man! Warn a guy before they ruin their secret identity!”

“I thought you were dead!” Spiderman yelled indignity, quickly adverting his gaze upwards. “How are you not dead?”

“Immortality, bitch! Got real fucked up by some real fucked up guys and now I look like this and can’t die.”

Spiderman figured that Deadpool was done putting his mask back on since the disgusting sounds of blood squelching in leather had stopped.

He looked back at the merc. He had not put his mask back on. He was holding it at his side by sticking his finger through the bullet hole in the forehead.

“Well now that you’ve seen this avocado face,” Deadpool drawled, fidgeting with his mask as if he was nervous, “Guess you should know the name associated with it.” Deadpool stuck out his other hand and grinned. Spiderman would have thought it was painful if the man’s eyes hadn’t been sparkling so much. He suspected that not many people got to see this face.

“The name’s Wade Wilson.”

Peter grabbed Wade’s hand without hesitation, testing the name on his tongue and smiling. “It’s nice to meet you, Wade.”

**…**

Aunt May hadn’t been very happy when she found out that Peter was Spiderman. She was even less happy when she found out that Spiderman was fighting crime with Deadpool.

Even Tony Stark was scared of her at this point. He had stopped calling her ‘Aunt Hottie’ and started calling her ‘Mama Bear’, which Peter had told him was worse.

The Avengers weren’t very happy with him either. Natasha and Clint had gone so far as to follow him around for over half-a-month before he caught them... And then another month after that. Peter wasn’t very proud of that.

His friends seemed to like the team up. When speculating the slowly lowering crime rates, Michelle had specifically cited the fact that Spiderman had somehow gotten Deadpool to stop murdering people.

“It’s making a real impact!”

On the other hand, the one think Harry and his father had ever agreed on it was how Spiderman was a menace. Norman Osborn, who had apparently been gunning for Deadpool to kill Spiderman, was very disappointed to see both of them getting along so well.

Wade told him not to worry about what everyone thought, that as long as they knew they were making an impact then they should be happy with themselves. Peter knew that he was pulling that crap out of thin air, but he appreciated the sentiment just the same.

But what Wade didn’t get was that, while it was easy to ignore the hate in the papers, it was harder to ignore his family’s opinions.

**…**

Wade didn’t learn Peter’s name until two years after Peter had learned his.

They had been doing a little team up mission after taco night on the south side of Queens by the bayside when Spidey had seemingly fallen into the freezing waters.

Deadpool continued to fight for a few more minutes before he realized that Spiderman hadn’t come back up yet. So Wade did what Wade did best: impulsively made a decision.

He jumped into the bay.

He was a couple yards down before he saw Spiderman. He was tangled up with one of the baddies they were fighting, who was actively trying to pull him down further.

Deadpool quickly untangled the two by stabbing the offender. Not enough to kill, he’d let the water do that shit.

He pulled Spiderman back up to the shore. The other bad guys had scattered. Maybe the amount of blood that had leaked into the bay had scared them off, Wade couldn’t find it in himself to care too much.

Spidey’s breathing sounded funky. Wade slowly rolled the younger man’s mask up past his nose so that his mouth was exposed, and then rolled his head over to the side. Wade leaned his own head down and found that the funky noises Spiderman had been making had stopped.

Wade quickly pulled off his gloves and pushed the neck of Spiderman’s mask up to place his fingers to Spidey’s neck. No pulse. Shit.

Wade began chest compressions, trying not to push too hard down on his chest while still going the full two inches. After thirty compressions he bent down to preform rescue breaths.

Of course, Wade knew that CPR wasn’t kissing at all, but his immaturity dictated that they were basically the same thing. Now, Wade Wilson was a lot of things, but a non-consensual kisser was not one of them.

A non-consensual life-savor though? That he could be. He had been trying to be better about killing less and saving more since he and Spidey had been meeting up. The kid was everything that Wade had needed back before he got mixed up in being a murderer for hire.

A hero who appeared out of nowhere to save just your average Joe? With a quirky joke and an upbeat attitude and an overwhelmingly straight moral compass? Who stood up for the little guy because behind that mask _he was that little guy too?_

Nine-year-old Wade Wilson, whose mother had died a slow death of cancer and whose alcoholic father punished him for everything that went wrong in their home with his belt and poisoned words, needed a hero like that.

Seventeen-year-old Wade Wilson, who ran away sixteen times and had lied on his enlistment forms just so he could get away from his father, needed a hero like that.

Twenty-eight-year-old Wade Wilson, who found out he had cancer just like his mother and who had willingly walked into Weapon X to be tortured, beaten, and “cured”; needed a hero like that.

After a couple rounds of CPR, Spidey took a huge, heaving breath, choking, and spitting up water as he finally began to breath, pushing himself over to try to get the water out faster.

Deadpool sat back and exhaled in relief. The spiderkid was still freaking out and, before Deadpool could remind him that he was still there, the hero had wrenched his wet mask off his head, struggling a bit around his still damp hair.

He was young. He couldn’t have been over twenty. His hair had a soft curl to it and his eyes were like pools of melted chocolate. His skin was clear, so unlike Wade’s, and pale from the cold. Wade suddenly wished that he had a coat to offer.

The kid placed a hand to his chest and took deep breaths, before he looked cautiously glanced at Wade at Wade, who had pulled off his own wet mask to preform CPR. He sent the kid a grin.

“Jesus, you’re a baby! How old are you baby boy? Twelve?”

“Don’t call me that,” Peter muttered quietly, his skin suddenly gaining a slight pink tinge. “My name is Peter. And I’m nineteen, not twelve.”

**…**

Wade felt like it was safe to say that out of literally everyone in the entire world he would have been _the last person_ to guess that he and Peter would start dating.

Even Tony Stark couldn’t have seen it coming. Though, he rarely saw anything coming these days. Peter said that it was because he was too immersed in his “new” project with Dr. Banner. In nearly five years of researching sentient alien life, all they knew about it was that it didn’t like heat or loud noises, it liked to respond to the name _Venom_ , and it made Peter very uncomfortable. Wow. Go science.

Weasel liked to tease Wade about his superhero boyfriend, and Aunt May was no better on Peter’s end. Peter’s friends also liked to tease him, sending him fanart of Spiderman and Deadpool on the daily, while the guys at Sister Margret’s, who, after hearing that Wilson had a young new boyfriend, relished in ordering him a dozen blowjobs whenever he walked into the place.

But for all the hype that their friends and family blew their relationship up to, it had all started off small. Sitting a little closer to each other during taco night. Going out to taco night a couple times a week instead of only one. Ending taco night at Wade’s apartment for movies soon became ending taco night at Wade’s apartment for kissing.

And it became painfully domestic too. But in typical Peter and Wade fashion, they had to make it a little weird. Peter was often found hung upside-down from the ceiling studying while Wade spread himself out on the couch under him, sharpening his knife collection.

Peter liked to yell “ _incoming!_ ”, giving Wade approximately 2.6 seconds to get rid of his knives before he dropped on top of him. He would always laugh at Wade’s high-pitched scream as he tried to toss his knives any direction but up and place sloppy kisses on Wade’s cheeks.

On the other hand, the thrills of battle were still relevant in their lives. There were dozens of first hands accounts telling stories of Spiderman _scolding_ _Deadpool_ , screaming about how he needed to stop taking bullets for him. Wade insisted that he needed to because Peter can die and Wade can’t, while Peter argued that Wade could still feel pain.

“Just ‘cause you _can_ feel pain doesn’t mean you _should!_ ”

Really, it was the only thing the two ever fought about. They were generally at a standstill on the topic, neither wanting to budge because they were so passionate about their sides.

It was nice, sharing the joys of life with each other. Being boyfriends by day and being badass superhero’s together by the moonlight. Peter had pretty much abandoned his dormmate to sleep on the right side of Wade’s bed every night.

Wade couldn’t believe that Peter could see anything in Wade. Peter was so _good_. Wade was an ex-mercenary who’s killed more people then even the government could count. But Peter insisted that Wade was _good_. That Wade was funny and empathic and kind. While Wade couldn’t see the good in himself, he loved watching Peter see the good in others. And maybe, selfishly, he felt like he was becoming better by osmosis just being around Peter Parker.

There were almost no boundaries between Wade and Peter anymore. They knew each other’s tragic backstories and favorite foods and secret search histories. The topic of soulmates rarely ever came up, Peter had the feeling that maybe Wade had already found and lost his soulmate.

Peter didn’t really care that Wade might be Widowed. He knew that Wade had to deal with people leaving all the time, and the last thing that would help him was Peter’s pity on top of the rest of the world’s. Besides, Peter was Doomed. Who was he to judge?

His misconception of Wade’s soulmate status was rectified however, one night when Wade brought up the subject on his own.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Wade while winding down after a long patrol. “Maybe I _am_ your soulmate!”

Peter blushed ferociously as Wade leaned down to kiss his exposed Words on his bare shoulder.

“Don’t say things like that,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut as Wade’s mouth moved to his neck. “It’s bad luck.”

“I didn’t know you believe in stuff like that.”

“Maybe I do.”

Wade grinned as Peter opened his eyes and moved his hands up to cup Wade’s face.

“I’m serious Wade. I have… I have Doomed Words. You don’t want to say these.”

“Nonsense,” Wade met his lips to Peter’s for a quick peck. “Those words could mean anything! You should’ve seen mine. Now _those_ were some Doomed Words.”

Peter’s confusion must have been evident in his eyes because Wade laughed lowly.

“They’re illegible now. Scars and such,” he pulled down the collar of his own shirt to show an illegible smear above his heart. “But I don’t care what they said. After what happened with Weapon X, they don’t matter anymore.” He paused for a second before saying, “This topic is a mood killer, can we go back to making out now?”

Peter smiled softly and whispered, “ _I think we can do that, Red_.” as he pulled Wade’s lips back down onto his own.

**…**

“You know it’s not her fault” Wade whispered into the top of Peter’s head one night.

“Hmm?” Peter hummed, head flat on Wade’s bare chest with Wade’s arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulders.

“Lady Fate,” Wade clarified. “It’s not her fault that we don’t know who our soulmates are until the end. I don’t think it used to be like this.”

“The story goes,” Peter mumbled sleepily, not even opening his eyes as he spoke. “That she believed that true love was something that should be worked for. So, she gave us choice. Who we choose to fall in love with regardless of soulmates. Odd thing for Fate to gift humanity, but that’s what they say happened.”

“I think that maybe she just got bored,” Wade muttered. “Maybe she thought watching us suffer was more fun than watching us succeed.”

“I’m not suffering now. I love _you_. Soulmate or not.”

“You shouldn’t”

“Wade…”

“I hope you’re not my soulmate,” Wade insisted quietly. “So you can move on from afterWords.”

AfterWords was common slang for the mythic place where you wait for your soulmate to arrive, so you can be reincarnated together to try again.

Peter had never been a fan of the pun, but Uncle Ben had found it the funniest thing ever.

May and Ben were part of that one of the unlucky majority that had Ordinary Words. Ordinary Words were words that came up in normal conversation and could be said multiple times before they became Last Words.

These were things like, “I’ll be working late tonight” or “I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was cruel, as you could never be sure who your soulmate was or when they would leave. How many times would someone say “I’ll see you tomorrow” as they’re last words to you until they were your Last Words?

Both May and Ben had had “Love you”.

May always said that you knew when the Last Words had become finite. That’s how you knew that you had really and truly lost your soulmate. She swore that there was a feeling, an indescribable feeling, that you felt after the ending had solidified. She had felt Ben die and no one challenged her.

Aunt May had been sad after Ben’s death for a long time, but she had kept going. She believed strongly in soulmates and she believed strongly in afterWords. She was sure that she and Ben would meet again in the next life. That didn’t mean she had to be done living this one.

If Wade was truly his soulmate, then Peter could never move on from afterWords. He couldn’t be reincarnated because Wade couldn’t die.

“I don’t care,” Peter said quietly. “Even if I only get this one last life with you. I don’t care if I don’t get past afterWords. As long as I’m here with you now.”

“You’re an idiot, baby boy,” Wade’s voice wavered slightly. “A goddamn idiot.”

Peter chose to say nothing, cuddling into Wade a little deeper.

**…**

“Watch out!”

Peter’s heart sunk as Wade was two seconds too slow in his turn.

The Venom symbiote knocked the wind out of Wade, slapping onto his back causing his chest to out arc upwards with a gasp. The impact pushed Wade forward, forcing him to stagger onto his knees. He slammed his hands onto the concreate top of the building, gritting his teeth and curling his fingers into fists as the black virus inched its way across his back and down his arms.

Peter fought the urge to take a step back. _No._

Two days ago, Tony Stark had excitedly called Peter to tell him that they had finally learned Venom’s purpose. It had been sent to Earth in search of a strong host. The reason was still unclear, but that information brought forward what they really need to know: Venom could bind itself to a host body like a parasite.  

Two hours ago, Tony Stark had frantically called to warn Peter about Venom’s escape. The alien had taken over the body of a lab assistant and broken out of the lab. Apparently, when it bonded to a host, it could take over their mind and body and take total control. And it was on the loose.

Peter stumbled forward, his hands instantly reaching out to cup Wade’s face, despite the man’s grunt of warning.

“ _Wade._ ” He breathed. “Come on, you can do this. Fight it, Wade. I know you can do this.” Nonsensical encouragement flowed from his mouth as he tried to get Wade to look at him, tried to ignore the way his veins had turned black and the way his own side pulsed with the injury the symbiote had already inflicted upon him.

“Peter, you gotta go,” Wade panted. “I can’t fight this, you have to go.”

“Wade-”

“I could kill you! Peter-”

“You won’t, _I know you won’t_ -”

“-It’s too strong and it wants to kill you and I won’t be able to stop it from making _me kill you!_ ”

“-I know you can do this.” Peter said, his voice weaker than he wanted it to be as he fought to keep himself upright. Leaving one hand on Wade’s face, he reached the other down and patted at his own side. It felt warm and sticky.

“Peter… Please,” Wade panted, his face under Peter’s hand contorted in pain. “It’s gonna make me kill you. You have to run, _I don’t want to kill you!_ ” Peter felt a burning sensation on his shoulder, shocks of pain tingling from his Words and a tug at his heart as Venom’s tendrils enveloped Wade’s face.

**…**

On lazy Sunday mornings, Wade would playfully pat at Peter’s cheeks while leaning over him to wake him up. Peter would always shoot up like a bullet in alarm, smacking their foreheads together.

Wade would just laugh and kiss Peter’s forehead while Peter attempted to smack him with a pillow.

They would move into the kitchen for pancakes that were covered in layers and layers of whipped cream and watch shitty daytime television with no space between them on the couch.

They would spend their lazy Sunday in their pajama’s lounging in their apartment, simply enjoying each other’s company.

**…**

“I know you’d never hurt me, Wade.” Peter rasped out, and the Venom tightened its grip around his throat. It spun Wade’s knife in its other hand, and Peter noticed that the movement wasn’t the same as when Wade twirled his knife. For some reason that made Peter feel better. “I know that you’re not doing this.”

“Whether or not he has control doesn’t matter, little spider. He can feel you dying,” The Venom’s face slid back, leaving Wade’s face exposed. His golden eyes, catching the glint of an adjacent street light, were glaring angrily down at Peter. The face framed by sticky black tendrils. Venom began to speak using Wade’s voice, and Peter thought he was going to be sick. “This one is strong, but I have ensured he felt the snap of your bones and the struggle of your lungs. Next he will feel the heat of your blood on his hands.”

“I know you can hear me Wade…” Peter ignored Venom’s cruel drawl, trying to search for any spark of Wade left in those eyes. “And… this is the end. You did it. _You_ said my words. And…” Peter’s eyes welled with tears with the effort of breathing with Wade’s hand wrapped around his throat.

“Go ahead, Spiderling,” Wade’s voice mocked darkly. “He’s still fighting. He can still hear, what does he call you? His baby boy?”

“Wa…de…” Peter gasped. “I… I love you, alright? You’re my soulmate and I… Please don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do this. I love you. I forgive you.”

Venom pulled Wade’s lips back into a grin, and Peter knew this was it. He forced his eyes to dart around Wade’s face, trying to remember what it looked like when it was filled with love before Venom buried Wade’s serrated steel knife into Peter’s abdomen.

The pain has nothing compared to when Wade had said his Words, but it hurt nonetheless. Peter felt himself going numb as the knife was slowly and deliberately pulled out, the ridges of the steel cutting again through his muscle and flesh as the knife exited is body.

Was it normal to be this cold? Peter found that he couldn’t keep his eyes open as he felt the warm blood pool under him. There was a pain in his chest and he could taste blood with each of his labored breaths. Wade’s arms were still supporting him, and even though he knew it wasn’t the same, Peter thought he could end it like this, staring up at Wade’s face through his hooded eyes one last time as his vision faded; and knew no more.

**…**

Lazy Sunday usually ended with a very quick patrol route. Peter especially looked out for people walking home alone on Sundays. Wade knew that this was because of his Uncle Ben.

Peter told him once that when he was in high school, his favorite crimes to stop were bigger ones. Bank robbers, illegal weapons dealers, alien invaders from outer space.

But as he matured he found that his favorite thing to do as Spiderman was to help elders with their groceries and moms with strollers cross the street. It was just making sure the good people of New York got home safely, and Peter believed everyone had a little good in them.

Lazy Sunday were Wade’s favorites because he could watch Peter do what he loved most. Help people.

**…**

When Wade came to it took him longer than it should have to remember what had happened. Venom’s disembark from his system had been so fast it made Wade’s head spin.

His arms and lower body were warm, and there was something heavy in his arms. He looked down and the sight below him made him feel like he had been hit by a truck.

Scratch that. Wade had been hit by many, many trucks, and this was far worse.

Blood soaked Wade’s arms and lap, and for the first time in a long time it was not his own. His arms were cradled around Peter’s shoulders, supporting him off the ground half onto his own lap. Wade shifted Peter, so he was holding him up with only one arm, and frantically used his free hand to push Peter’s bloodied curls back so he could see his lover’s face better.

“Peter?” Wade whispered voice shook. Peter’s eyes were half open but unseeing. Wade patted Peter’s cheeks in an attempt to wake him up, just like he did on lazy Sunday when Peter didn’t want to get out of bed.

Peter did not wake.

And then it all came flooding back to Wade. His own hands strangling Peter’s windpipe. Peter’s labored breaths trying to force their way through the chokepoint. His own arms popping Peter’s out of their sockets. His own leg axe-kicking Peter’s, snapping his bone in half. His own knife imbedding into Peter’s side. No, wait… was it his gut?... No. It was both.

“Baby boy, please… please _wake up_.”

Then the memories came back into focus, and Wade would do anything for that magic bullet that had wiped the Wolverine’s memory in that god-awful movie because he never wanted to remember Peter’s pleas. Never wanted to hear that desperation again. Never deserved to hear so much love in someone’s voice again, especially when mixed with so much pain.

Wade had killed a lot of people before Peter had helped him. He had felt bad about some of them, and maybe a little guilty about others. Nothing compared to the wave of anguish that washed over him when the fact settled upon him: he had killed Peter Parker.

“You can’t do this to me, Peter,” Wade’s voice cracked. “You can’t… you can’t go where I can’t follow.”

He waited for Peter to scoff at his Lord of the Rings reference. But he didn’t.

He cradled Peter’s pale face in his hands. “Petey? Baby boy? Come on, open your eyes… please… You can’t… you can’t leave me here!” Wade’s anguish rose within him as his voice escalated as well. “You can’t do this to me, please don’t do this to me!”

Peter’s eyes did not open. His skin was growing colder.

“I did this,” Wade’s tears dropped onto his love’s face. “I did this.”

That’s where Tony Stark found him, cradling Peter’s battered body to his chest, sobbing on the roof of the taco place they had had their first date.

Suddenly, Yukio and Negasonic were opening the door to find his pathetic ass on their doorstep. He didn’t remember how he had gotten to the X Mansion, he didn’t know where Peter’s body had gone or if he would ever be able to vocalize to anyone that he and Peter were soulmates.

His chest was burning as Wade fell to his knees on the front step. Wade didn’t need to look to know that Lady Fate had suddenly cleared the scared skin under the Words that had foretold the end of Peter Parker’s life above his heart.

 _I forgive you_.

**…**

**…**

**…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little unsure with how I wanted to proceed with this chapter. I wanted to do the first chapter justice, but it was difficult. I’m a big fan of depressing endings, the kind that make your heart feel empty and leave you staring off into nothing, because I believe they’re more emotionally realistic and impactful. On the other hand, I feel like this ending also tugs at the heartstrings. I hope you don’t find it cheap; this is the kind of ending that I feel is ‘Giving The People What They Want’. I tried for a happy end, but I understand that some people, like me, find the other ending as enough. If you are unsatisfied, please disregard this chapter entirely and don’t hate on me.   
> Oh! Also, this one is heavily influenced by Deadpool 2. You’ll see. I hope you enjoy.

…

AfterWords was a weird place.

As Peter looked around he noticed that this place was modeled after his and Wade’s apartment, all the furniture and the weird stains and the pictures of different cats that Wade had found around the city. But it didn’t _feel_ like Peter and Wade’s apartment. Not at all.

Everything was hazy here. The world was a mirage. Constantly melting away and slipping through his fingers. He was underwater. The place came with a lightheaded, sluggish, tired feeling that settled over Peter like a heavy blanket.

It always felt like the late afternoon, with the sun low and orange, painting the walls of the apartment the colors of the sunset. It reminded Peter of ending Lazy Sundays with Wade on the rooftop of their favorite taco place, watching the sun sink behind the skyline.

But it was all too warm, and Peter was beginning to think that the purpose of this place was to rest.

Peter had never really been one for resting. He had always been doing stuff in life. Whether he was saving people as Spiderman or trying to make a dent in the world of science as Peter Parker. All he could do here was… nothing.

Peter had liked life. Specifically, life with Wade. He spent his days (if you could even call them that) wandering around the apartment, scrutinizing the little details of the replica of their home. Lady Fate had done a good job.

So, he didn’t particularly like afterWords. Peter didn’t know if that made any sense. Wasn’t he supposed to like it here? Wasn’t this supposed to be the place where his soul was most happy? The place where he was to spend the rest of eternity? It didn’t make any sense… well, nothing really ever made much sense here anyway.

Peter never regretted what he had told Wade what had seemed like lifetimes ago.

_“I don’t care. Even if I only get this one last life with you. I don’t care if I don’t get past afterWords. As long as I’m here with you now.”_

The memories of his life with Wade were enough. There were things that Peter knew. He knew that their story had been cut off too short. He knew how much he loved Wade Wilson. He knew that Wade was his _soulmate_. He knew that he wouldn’t trade a second of any of it for a way out of here. Not a single second.

It was thoughts like these that kept Peter sane.

Sometimes he thought he could see Wade in the distance. Somewhere unreachable. No matter how hard Peter tried to push through the thick haze, he could never reach him. Then he would become a shimmer in the distance. The vision of Wade came and went as it pleased. He thought he was hallucinating again when Wade actually did show up.

There was a barrier between them, one that Peter had never noticed before. It blocked Wade in at the door, yet Wade didn’t look any different behind the thick water wall.

“Peter?” He whispered, his voice sounding distinct and broken. “Petey is that you?”

Peter didn’t look up from his seat at the window. He’d seen Wade here before many times, but Wade couldn’t have been real those times, he didn’t even seem to notice Peter’s presence most times. He was trying to think, figure out what was going on. Had he finally lost it? It was a little hard to come to a conclusion when Wade was banging on the barrier.

“Pete!” He called, desperately trying to get Peter’s attention. He tried to push through, but the wall wouldn’t budge. “Come on, I can’t get through! _Peter_?”

Peter finally turned his head away from the view of ‘Queens’ from out the window. Between the haze of the heat in the room and the blur of the barrier, Peter couldn’t get a good look at Wade. He vaguely wondered how much time had passed. He wasn’t sure if Wade could age.

“It won’t work,” he said, his voice surprisingly even, still wondering if Wade was even here at all. He felt empty as he continued to speak. “You can’t die.”

“I can’t… _what?_ ”

Peter looked Wade up and down in surprise, scrutinizing him. He was at a loss for words.

“Peter! What can’t I do _?_ I can’t hear you, this… this _thing_ is in the way! What can’t I do?”

Peter just shook his head and looked away as Lady Fate grabbed Wade and pulled him back to the land of the living.

Peter was alone again.

The next time Wade visited was only there for a few seconds.

“Pete, you gotta help me out here. Come on Webs, how do I get through th-”

And he was gone.

The third time Wade didn’t even seem to notice he was there until he was gone.

“They said I have to _die_ to be with you. I don’t know how to do that, you gotta help me! Peter!”

The fifth time his pleading had become graveling.

“I keep trying,” Wade said, his voice thick. “I keep trying to die, but I can’t… I can’t get to you. I can’t _die_.”

“I know.” Peter whispered to himself, closing his eyes as Wade went back to life.

And then Lady Fate pulled him away again.

The eighth time Wade had appeared, Peter didn’t even get up. He wouldn’t be there for much longer anyway.

Wade sat against the barrier, pressing his back up to it and pulling his knees to his chest.

The twelfth time Wade leaned against the barrier, Peter leaned up against the barrier in the same position on his side, matching his back to where Wade’s would have touched his if the wall hadn’t been there. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the feeling of human contact again. The feeling of touching Wade again. Any feeling.

His visits quickly became more frequent after that. Peter could only imagine the torture that Wade was putting himself in just to try to be with Peter again. Maybe Wade forgot what feeling was like too.

Peter had had begun to have more cynical thoughts like these the longer he was here. He tried to keep a positive attitude, but it became harder and harder the more he tried to remember. Because trying to remember just meant you begin to realize all that you’ve forgotten.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How am I supposed to get to you Peter? How am I supposed to join you?” Wade begged on his next visit.

“You’re not doing it right.” Peter finally relented, still avoiding Wade’s gaze.

Wade’s head popped up and looked at Peter with wide eyes. “Wait, what?”

Then Wade was gone again.

“What do I need to do, tell me what I need to do!” He pleaded his next visit. “Please, Peter I can’t go on like this!”

Finally, Peter figured out what he was supposed to say. “Stop.”

“What?” Wade breathed. Peter finally understood. Neither of them could go on like this.

“You need to stop,” He couldn’t bring himself to look at Wade, tears appearing in his own eyes blurring his vision. He had to do this. “Live your life and… and forget me. Please forget me.”

And Wade was gone. He didn’t return for a long time.

…

Wade had nightmares about that night on the roof.

Sometimes, he woke up feeling that he was covered in blood. The suffocating feeling of the thick warmth hugging his skin tightly. All he could feel was the beat of his heart and the feeling of Peter’s blood on his skin as he crumbled into a panicked mess.

Other times, it was a cold sweat, his eyes stinging with sleep deprivation and tears as Peter’s voice echoed into his head, screaming at him in terror and pain as the life drains out of his eyes, begging him to wake up, wake up, _wake up._

But most nights, the nightmare went like this:

_Wade was running. There was someone chasing him._

_“WADE!” His father yelled. “GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!”_

_Was he still running? He couldn’t feel his legs, but the way the wind was hitting his face made him think he was running. Someone was yelling at him, a different voice than before._

_“WILSON! FALL IN!” That was his commanding officer. The man had quite the lungs on him. He continued to yell at Wilson, making him run faster and faster. As he spoke, his voice shifted into a different one, and the wind in his face changed._

_He was falling._

_“WILSON!” Tony Stark’s voice filtered into his ears. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He screamed. Wade couldn’t think of an answer, couldn’t even think of what he was doing, before he hit the ocean. There was a pull that dragged him down until the darkness suddenly became paradise._

_The midafternoon sun felt blinding compared to the darkness that had been encircling him a moment before._

_Peter sat before him, his eyes staring into Wade’s like blackholes, pulling him into his gaze and holding him hostage. Paradise melted away._

_“Why didn’t you fight it, Wade?” His voice echoed around their afterWords, and the lazy Sunday sunshine disappeared, plunging the two of them into cold darkness. Wade didn’t need to look around to know where they were this time._

_The rooftop._

_He could feel Venom inch its way up his legs, as if it was in slow motion. Drawn out. Agonizing._

_“Why didn’t you save me?” Peter asked, and there was a knife in his heart. Wade’s knife. Serrated steel._

_Peter stumbled forward, and his legs gave out under him as Wade caught him in his arms._

_“I thought you loved me?” Peter whispered, curling his fist tight into Wade’s shirt._

_“I do love you,” Wade said, his heart hammering. “I do.”_

_Peter hesitated for a moment, letting his head fall forward onto Wade’s chest, before he spoke again, his voice timid. “But you killed me.”_

Wade always woke with a start after that, his heart feeling like it was shattered into a million pieces as he fumbled frantically at the sheet’s restricting his breathing before freezing when he remembered the cold truth that haunted him every night.

The right side of his bed was empty.

…

“So,” Wade slammed his gloves on the bar, startling Weasel. “What _the fuck_ is ‘Final Death’?”

“How do you not know what Final Death is dude? You’re like, forty!”

“Uh, no? I’m a _hot_ thirty-nine. What is it?”

“Jesus, calm down you’re spraying spit everywhere, I’m trying to pass the next health inspection! Do you know how hard it is to-”

“Weasel! Focus! Final Death, what is it?” Wade yelled impatiently. It had been a full month since he last died. Wade had thrown himself into research about afterWords. He didn’t know how Peter had done this. Research was exhausting. But every thread that he pulled on lead him back to something called ‘Final Death’. It was a term that Wade had heard before but had never really understood. He generally tuned out when people talked about things he didn’t understood. Or things he didn’t care about. But now he cared.

Weasel stopped wiping down the counter and sighed.

“Final Death is pretty much what it sounds like. I don’t know how you’ve never heard of it. Canadian education, that’s all I’m saying. Anyway, it’s the last life you live before Lady Fate decides that you and your soulmate have done enough time. Most people get three, four shots at most. Fate’s gotta make room for new souls, you know. But but but! It’s all speculation.”

Weasel pulled out some bottles and began pouring a shot. The sun was rising somewhere in the world outside the bar, and the last stragglers were finally leaving from the night before.

Wade went quiet before asking, “Then what happens?”

“Then they die their Final Death and go to their afterWords for the rest of eternity. Or that’s what they tell us, anyway. Sounds great right? No more searching for each other, no more suffering?”

“So… how do you know when you’re done?”

Weasel shrugged. “You never really know until it happens, I guess. What’s with all the questions, huh?”

“Oh, just hoping that if the sweet relief of death _does_ come for me, it’ll be forever.”

Weasel hesitated. “Wade, you can’t die. You know that, right?”

“Well… a man _can_ dream, can’t he?”

“Is this about that Spider-kid?”

Wade glared at him.

“Sorry, sorry. _Peter_ ,” Weasel hastily corrected. He slid a shot glass in front of Wade and the man drowned it instantly. “It’s been a while man, what’ve you been up to? How’s your year been?”

Wade had spent the last year hunting down Venom. Tony and Bruce had tried to convince him to preserve it for science, but that little fuck had killed Peter Parker.

Wade threw the parasite into a fucking volcano and relished in the high-pitched sounds of its screams.

“Oh, you know. Murderous. As always. Died a lot too, got a glimpse of our afterWords but I have no idea how the fuck I’m supposed to _stay_ there.”

“What’s it like? Your afterWords?”

“It looks like our shitty apartment.”

“So… it’s perfect?”

“Duh.”

…

Wade made a point to meet up with May Parker once a week, every week, after his return to the city.

It hurt to see May sometimes. It was so clear that Peter had copied his Aunt May’s every movement, toddling around after her like a duckling even before he lived with her, that his world view came directly from her. He was so much like her, and she was so much like him, it made Wade’s heart ache.

Sweet May, who had dealt with tragedy after tragedy throughout her life, was now alone in the world. But she had always kept her head high through the Parker’s death, through Ben’s death, and now through Peter’s.

Wade had killed her nephew. The least Wade could do was make sure she wasn’t entirely alone (and maybe Wade didn’t want to be entirely alone either).

Peter’s bright sunshine smile was a reflection of May’s. He saw him in her every movement. Her smile, her laugh, her view on humanity. May Parker had been the one to teach Peter about the world, and even though the world was a cold cruel place that had been especially cold and cruel to Peter, she had done a very good job teaching him to see the good in everybody.

Peter had had several parental figures throughout his short life, and all had contributed to making him into the man he died as, but May Parker had shaped him. Molded him into the man Wade loved. Peter Parker had learned everything that made him wonderful from May Parker. And that meant Wade owed her everything. The least he could do was keep her a little company.

…

“Maybe the _point_ is that _I can’t die_! Maybe instead of joining Peter in afterWords I’m supposed to pull him back out here!”

“Then he’d just die and go back there in sixty-years, dumbass!” Al yelled from the other room. “And you’re back to square one!”

“Oh, what do you know you old _bat!?”_

“I know plenty, dick-for-breath! I’m on my Last Life, just waiting for the sweet release of Final Death so I can get away from you!”

Wade shot up like a rocket from his spot on the floor. “You’re _what?”_

“I said I’m waiting for the sweet release of Final Death, you shit-biscuit!”

“No, about the other thing, you senile old bitch! About your _final life_! How do you know you’re on your Final Life?”

“Well I don’t know, I just do! One day, I realized I could remember my afterWords. My friend Sticky Steve said it meant that you’re on your Last Life.”

Wade paused for a second, taking in the information Blind Al had presented him before latching onto one fact: “…Sticky Steve?”

“It was the seventies, you dick. We were high.”

Al waited for a few beats before calling out for Wade again. It took her a few moments to realize that he had left.

“Ungrateful.”

…

“How am I supposed to help you, Wilson?”

If you had told Wade six years ago that he’d be on the doorstep on his knees on Tony Stark’s doorstep, he’d ask you if he’d at least get to give a blowjob. No matter how you’d answer him, he’d probably shoot you in the head anyway.

But here was now.

“Come _on_! I’ve tried everything! Crystal meth, cocaine, LSD, Viagra, heroin! I’m runnin’ outta drugs here, man!”

“And you wonder why we didn’t want you two together…”

“I don’t need yap from you, Hawkeye! Go shoot someone’s cat!”

Real emotion crossed Hawkeye’s face as he scrunched up his nose in confusion and disgust. If Deadpool hadn’t been so preoccupied with trying to kill himself he’d pay more attention to fact that he’d never seen Clint without a passive frown on his face.

“I just… Come on, Strange!” Wade pivoted away from Clint to face the master of the mystic arts. “You have to had bumped into her somehow! I just need to talk to her!”

“Even if I could, Wilson-”

“It’s not like you can _talk to Fate_!” Rocket interrupted loudly. “It’s not like she’s any of our sister-in-law! Thor, Thor! Is _Fate_ your _sister?”_

 “Silly Rabbit!” Thor chuckled deeply. “My sister is the goddess of death! No, no. Fate is an old friend.”

Everyone froze and turned slowly to stare at Thor, who continued on like they weren’t.

“It’s been nearly five-thousand years, of course, and she had to take over for her mother, the goddess of destiny was in charge, the woman was mismatching souls left and right! One year she introduced around one billion souls to Midgard alone! So, Lady Fate had to take charge, which of course means she’s been a little busy for the last few-thousand years. She’d been doing phenomenal, of course, you know she-”

Bruce rose his head up from the pile of papers he was sleeping in, cutting off the god of thunder’s ramblings. “Maybe you should introduce her to Wade? Who has been asking for a way to meet her for the last half-hour?”

“No. No!” Stark interrupted. “Do you guys know who this man is? Peter is _dead_ because of him!”

“Tony,” Bruce sighed. “We both know what that symbiote was capable of. We can’t blame Wade for it.”

“I don’t need this again,” Tony groaned. “Seriously, I don’t! Not from you, or Pepper, or May, or anyone!” With that, Tony stormed out and Bruce let his head bang back down against the table.

Tony had never like Wade, and he hadn’t taken Peter’s death well. No one had. He kept his feelings neutral about Wade out of respect for Peter’s memory in the week leading up to the funeral, but since Wade’s return to the city with the news of the destruction of the symbiote, Tony had become hostile.

Wade believed that Tony may blame himself for Peter’s death, maybe as much as Wade did. But that didn’t really matter to Wade. Tony may have let Venom loose, but it was Wade’s hand in the end.

Since Wade Wilson was a self-proclaimed awful person, he had to admit that it made him feel a little better knowing that someone else was wallowing in pity and not moving forward. What? He said he was an awful person.

After a long awkward moment, Thor let out a noise of excited revelation.

“Oh! Oh, of course! I can go ask Lady Fate if she’d meet with you! That may solve your little problem! Anything for the betrothed of young Peter, may he rest in peace.” Thor added the last part with a low, respectful tone.

“Oh my god, can you?” Deadpool squealed, cutting the tension from the room with a sharp, high pitched squeal that made Strange wince. “I knew you were my favorite Hemsworth for a reason!”

“Oh, Wilson,” Thor laughed jovially. “As always, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

…

Peter stretched out on the couch in the low sunshine streaming through the dirty windows.

He was daydreaming about sitting in this exact spot, with MJ sitting on his counter a few feet away and Ned settled in the armchair across from him, knowing that Gwen and Harry were on their way with a pizza and a board game.

He tried to remember the feeling of laying here, one hand hooked behind his hand and the other holding his phone up to his hand while catching up with Aunt May.

He reminisced on reading over reports that Mr. Stark had sent to him, the sunshine turning the pages of the paper orange as he scanned it with droopy eyes.

He imagined lounging in this exact position, lazily waiting for Wade to show up, smelling of whisky and burned wood, to tell him the most amazing stories of his days and nights prior to meeting Peter.

He thought he’d miss swinging through the city the most. Maybe the long nights with Wade at home or longer nights running around with Deadpool. Or it could’ve been the sleepless hours he had spent in Mr. Stark’s marvelous lab obsessing over whatever new project had popped into his head that week.

And yeah, Peter missed all those things.

But his heart ached as he thought about all the unfinished debates he and his friends had left to do. About all the mid-morning cuddles he and Wade were missing out on. The dinners he was missing with Aunt May and the drives he was missing with Mr. Stark. All the little things in life that he had never thought that he’d miss so much.

…

Thor had kept to his word and gotten Wade a meeting with Lady Fate.

He’d been nervous, despite Thor’s best efforts to cool his nerves. The man had a way of unintentionally making Wade feel worse about himself, with his unfiltered view on the world and the people around him, but he was just so damn charming that Wade couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Thor had dropped him off in an Asgardian garden that looked like it was made of clouds.

The area was enclosed by barriers like the one in his and Peter’s afterWords that kept Peter in and kept Wade in. The walls rippled and waved with hypnotic movements that left an feeling settling over his chest.

Wade was nervous. Was Lady Fate going to evaluate him? Question him? Damn him to hell? Wade had worked very hard to not fall off the wagon-o-murder the week following Peter’s death. But when the depression ebbed away, and the anger set in, Wade’s world tour took him on a wild ride of torture and interrogation to find the Venom symbiote and kill it.

The satisfaction that came with throwing it into that volcano disappeared very quickly, and Wade had felt empty. He hasn’t killed since then, but the empty feeling had not gone away.

But here, in this haven of Asgard, he felt calm. Not full, yet not empty. It was peaceful.

Lady Fate looked almost translucent. Her appearance kept shifting acutely, never fully settling. She was gorgeous.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to initiate conversation.

He awkwardly took another look around before blurting out the first question that popped into his mind.

“So… what was that water-wall thing then?”

“I see you recognize it,” Lady Fate laughed, her voice like a low bell, capturing Wade in the sound. She gestured for him to sit across from her. “My mother took to calling it the _‘Vision’_ ,” She smiled at him knowingly before he could even open his mouth. “No, not like your artificial friend. It’s more like… a fog. Designed to dull the pain of heartbreak in the afterlife.”

Lady Fate paused, contemplating her next words carefully. “Though, it seems that one Peter Parker is stronger than the average soul. He’s been resisting his Vision for some time now.”

Wade looked back down at his hands, his heart clenching at Peter’s name, twisting his fingers together nervously. Thor had likely told her why he was here. She knew what he wanted. Yet, she didn’t even spare him a pitiful glance. Wade could tell, even from just meeting her, that she truly understood the cycle of death. Of course she did. For her, it was just another part of life.

“I… have a question for you.”

“I assumed as much.” Her speech was smooth, and her tone was amused.

“I’ve been hearing a lot about Final Death. Final Life. Final everything? I was wondering if you could clear that up for me? I mean, I figured you’d be more reliable than Sticky Steve.”

“Wade.” Was all Fate had to say to have the man spilling the truth.

“All right! I want to know if I’m on it. ‘Cuz it would kinda suck if this wasn’t even my Last Life. I can’t die! If I finally manage it, imagine if I had to do it all again!”

Wade took a heaving breath, and Fate gave him a second to let the tension out of his shoulders before she answered his question.

“You and Peter Parker were on your fifth life. I enjoyed having such a good pair out in Midgard so much that I extended your stay a little longer than I should have. Please forgive me.”

Wade remained silence. He was afraid his brain had overloaded.

“I must admit,” Lady Fate continued, almost shyly. “I have never seen two souls dance together the way yours did. That being said, I do believe it was time to give you both a long-deserved rest. So, to answer your question, yes. This is your Last Life.”

Wade looked down at his hands again for a moment before muttering a quiet _“Thank you”_.

“So, has he spoken to you yet?” Lady Fate asked coyly after a long silence, making Wade snap is head back up and his shoulders tense up again.

Wade hesitated. The words Peter had spoken to him last were still echoing around in his head. _‘Please forget me.’_ But how can he forget Peter? His soulmate, Peter? _His_ Peter?

“Is he not supposed to?” He finally ended up asking.

“Well you are an anomaly, Wade. Nothing like you has ever happened. I’d imagine that Peter wouldn’t have been able to understand what was going on at first. His death was… well his Vision should be very dense. He’s probably been so lost in memories and fog that he wouldn’t be able to identify you as different.”

Wade chose his next words carefully. “He didn’t really talk to me at first… When he does he’s really… vague.”

Lady Fate nodded knowingly, and Wade was sure that she saw right through her.

“So,” Fate smiled. “Tell me about him.”

“Shouldn’t you already know him? You _are_ Fate after all.”

“No, no,” Fate smiled again. “Of course, I’ve seen his soul. But I’ve seen so many souls. I want _you_ to tell me about Peter Parker. _Your_ Peter Parker.”

…

Before Peter died, dying had just been like falling asleep and waking up again.

Wade hadn’t been totally convinced on the reality of soulmates until he met Peter Parker. Until he saw his afterWords for the first time. Until he knew that the only thing he wanted was to find a way to stay there forever.

The next few times Wade visited Peter, Peter ignored him. He moved around a lot, very rarely was he in the same spot of the apartment as he was the last time Wade saw him. He never seemed to be _doing_ anything. It was unnerving.

The Peter he remembered was a ball of excitable energy. There wasn’t a time in Wade’s memory where wasn’t doing something. Even when sleeping, Peter tended to twist and turn. He hadn’t liked to talk about it too much, but Wade knew it was nightmares. Other than that, Peter was always fidgety. The sound of a restless bouncing leg or the rhythm of fast tapping fingers filled Wade’s life in the last few years. It was really quiet without him.

It was really quiet in their afterWords too.

Here, in what was supposed to be the perfect place, Peter just sat. His chest rose and fell hypnotically, making Wade wonder if he even needed to breathe, or if it was just force of habit. But he just sat, or stood, or lay. Barely moving, like a bored zoo animal that Wade was intruding on.

Peter asked him to stop coming, and he had tried for a while. But when you’re Deadpool, shit happens, and you die. A lot.

But Wade would be lying to say that all his deaths were accidents.

Wade knew it was unhealthy to keep doing this. But Peter was… Peter was _home._ More than Sister Margaret’s, more than Blind Al’s, more than _Canada herself._

He missed Peter. Knowing that he was just one bullet away was so tempting.

Wade was lost without him, and it only took a few visits for him to realize that Peter was lost too.

…

Lady Fate, generous as she was gracious, had granted him one kindness. She promised him that the next time he died of legitimate causes she would move him onto his afterWords and leave him there, under the one condition that he did not do anything to sway the hand of Death in his favor.

It was the best break-up Wade had ever had.

Nearly a year later, Wade found slowly advanced towards the familiar wooden door with a brass _16_ on it.

A moment earlier, he had been standing in front of Sister Margret’s, Bea and Arthur protectively held out in front of it when a well-placed shot from the side had caught him in the side of the head. He could feel the memory of the incident slip through his fingers as he moved his hand through the thick air to grip the doorknob.

Inside, he found himself in the now familiar landscape of his and Peter’s afterWords. The sun from the window was still setting as it had been for the years Peter had been here. Wade suddenly wondered what their afterWords looked like for their past lives.

Peter was standing, looking straight at Wade. He had never done that before; every time Wade had been there Peter was always avoiding eye-contact and giving him vague answers to his desperate questions, his world clouded by his Vision. It was like this was the first time Peter could see him too. Wade was frozen to the spot.

“Hey, Red,” Peter whispered. He spoke to him in the first time in years and obviously trying not to smile in that cute, familiar way that made Wade’s heart melt. “I thought I told you to forget me.”

Wade took a cautious step forward. He reached a hand out and carefully touched the barrier, which had kept them apart for so long. It wobbled around his fingers and he pushed through. It felt like gelatin, and as Wade made his way through the scars on his body melted off.

Peter took a small step forward too, and slowly reached out to take Wade’s hands in his own. Wade felt like crying as smooth skin met smooth skin for the first time and Peter pulled him closer.

“Hi baby boy,” Wade muttered, smirking slightly as he enveloped the smaller man into a long overdue embrace. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hmm,” Peter murmured, leaning deeper into their hug, clinging to Wade as if he was daring something to tear them apart again. “It was worth the wait. Did you miss me?”

“Oh, so much. So, so much. The whole world missed you,” Wade leaned back and bumped his forehead against Peter’s. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I’m so-”

“Hey, hey,” Peter placated. “None of that. You didn’t do that.”

“I… I killed you,” Wade’s voice cracked, and his eyes welled up. “I don’t care if it wasn’t _me_ , _I still did it_. It was still _my_ body and _my_ hand and _my_ knife.”

“I forgive you, I always forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t-”

“Wade Wilson, I am not spending my eternity of bliss trying to convince you that what happened _wasn’t your fault_.” Peter grabbed Wade’s face, and Wade closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the pure honesty in Peter’s eyes. Tears began to drip down his face. Peter used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears away. “I love you, Wade Wilson. Nothing can stop me from loving you.”

They stood like that, forehead to forehead in the middle of their warm apartment, for a long time. When the tears finally stopped, Wade was the first to speak.

“So…” Wade muttered, ignoring the way his voice cracked as he raised his eyebrows suggestively. “The rest of eternity… what shall we do with all this time?”

Peter laughed, a real Peter Parker laugh that filled Wade a light that he had seldom felt in his last few years.

“I think we can find _something_ to do.”

...


End file.
